


I Like A Good Rose

by Turn_of_the_Sonic_Screw



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Multi, Racism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-12 08:48:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15336216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Turn_of_the_Sonic_Screw/pseuds/Turn_of_the_Sonic_Screw
Summary: ...and a good Finn, and a good Poe.In which Rey is awesome and Kylo Ren is a racist jackwagon.





	I Like A Good Rose

**Author's Note:**

> So in Murder on the Orient Express, Daisy Ridley's character is told off for dining with a black physician; specifically, that mixing races is as abominable as mixing red and white wine. To which she promptly responds that she likes a good rose, pours one glass into the other, and takes a big drink. (Solid movie, but David Suchet is my Poirot. Sorry, Ken Branagh.) Anyway, I had to do something with that, and I can't imagine that modern-day Kylo Ren would be big on Rey engaging in three interracial relationships.

Rey knows who it is, knows without having to turn, from the way the bustle of the bar crawls to a whisper around them. “Hello, Ben.” She knows he hates his birth name; ordinarily she wouldn’t push his buttons, but if he’s going to ruin her romantic evening out, then she’ll fight fire with fire and apologize to Leia in the morning. Besides, if he’s come here in a sufficiently aggrieved state to quiet Takodana, then she doubts it’ll have much effect.

“Rey, I--”

“Unless the next word out of your mouth is apologize, I suggest you leave,” Rey snaps tartly. Out of the corner of her eye, she can already see Rose reaching for the mini-taser she keeps in her purse.

“You need someone to teach you,” he pleads, his whinging tone grating her ears. “Not just philosophy, but how to move in civilized society. Not your current acquaintances.” She can sense her three lovers wincing at the implication. 

“Listen well, Ben Solo.” Rey draws herself up, standing on the rungs of the barstool so she can meet his eyes. “Bad enough you invite me over to your apartment on the pretense of studying so I can help you sabotage your academic adviser. Worse still you send me uninvited shirtless pictures. But you _dare_ intrude on the first date I’ve had since midterms?” Hopefully he’s smart enough not to turn this into a fight, four on one.

Rey gets a whiff of his breath as he interrupts her; she hadn’t smelled the alcohol at first, not at a bar. But he reeks of it. No excuse, of course. She hears the pop of knuckles to her left, wonders if it’s Finn or Poe. “Please, you call this a date? This crude collection of riff-raff? It’s disgusting.” He leans closer to her. “You deserve me.”

“By riff-raff, do you mean my hot boyfriend, my handsome boyfriend, or my cute girlfriend? Or all of the above?” Let him wallow in that, Rey thinks. “And frankly, you barely deserve yourself.” He’ll figure that out in the morning, once he’s sobered up. “You certainly can’t hold a tiki torch to any of mine.”

He has not yet figured out that leaving would be a great idea, because he tries to grab Rey by the shoulder. Without thinking, she grabs his finger, bends it back until he winces and steps back, then flings her beer in his face. He trips on the ridiculous black trench coat he insists on wearing at all hours and lands on his back. “Go. Now!” Either there is power in her words, or Finn and Poe and Rose look a lot scarier from flat on Ben’s back than they do when she’s flat on hers, because he scampers away like lightning.

“Nice work,” Maz says once they retake their seats. “My treat,” she continues, sliding a drink across the bar to Rey.

“What is it?” Runaway junkrats don’t get to acquire much of a taste for the finer things in life, and the cocktail in its heavy glass looks expensive.

“An old-fashioned,” Maz explains. Rey snorts, finding the irony just as delicious as the beverage. “Demerara sugar, rye whiskey, orange peel, and aromatic bitters,” she continues. “Four simple ingredients, made perfect by being combined.”

“I like it.” Rey smiles; she has a soft spot for the wizened old bartender. “Thank you.”

“Okay, that was kind of hot,” Finn whispers in her ear.

“Let me finish my drink and you can take me home,” Rey promises.

“Drink fast,” Rose advises with a cheeky grin.

“It’s still early,” Poe counsels. “And, god help me, Rey’s young and strong enough to keep us all busy.” He pauses just long enough to flash that cocksure grin of his. “I gotta know: which one is the hot boyfriend and which one is the handsome one?”

Rey just smiles and leans against the warm, dark wood of the bar, the burn of the alcohol as warm on her throat as Finn’s arm draped loosely across her shoulder. Not a bad night, even with one too many bigoted toerags, she decides, and takes another slow sip.


End file.
